


Across the Universe

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artists, Chef Rory, Dorky T-Shirts, Dragons, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Multiverse, Post-Apocalypse, Small Chubby Dragons, Suicidal Ideation, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: 5 times the multiverse shows how much Mick and Len are meant for each other, and 1 time it works out for Mick.Also, for some reason they're never quite human.





	Across the Universe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nirejseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/gifts).



> Please heed tags.

**1.**

Mick ain’t surprised the engine’s fried. Jax takes care of ‘er, but he made the mistake of letting Ray Palmer get his grabby hands on ‘er systems without any prior training. After all the fuck ups on missions, he’s sensing a pattern with Haircut.

He takes one look outside and knows they’re in another universe. Because he knows that ass.

Leonard Snart, alive and well, is bent over some herbs by a large, thick tree. His get up looks like it’s from a fantasy RPG, and he’s cutting the stems with engraved silver claws clasped on his fingers. A cloak of raven feathers, dyed blue towards the bottom, hangs on a nearby branch, probably set aside due to the bright sun shining on his ass.

Good to know some things don’t change. Mick wants to run outta the ship and talk to him, but everything’s a little hazy all of a sudden. He hears Gideon inform the team of their situation, and that the ship is in need of extensive repairs. With any luck, the broken parts are salvageable.

“Well, we might as well get comfy,” Sara says with a sigh.

“At least we’re cloaked,” Haircut adds, “Would hate to give this guy a heart attack.”

No he wouldn’t. Heart attacks mean death, and if another Leonard Snart dies again, Mick really will snap.

Snart straightens, placing the herbs in a basket on his arm. “Well. You’re definitely not from around here.”

The team looks at the forest around him. There’s nobody there.

“I’m talking to _you_.” He turns, and the team gasps, recognizing his face. But his eyes…they’re milky white.

He’s—

“I might be blind, but I see more than you think,” he says, looking right at the ship. “I’m not sure what that strange energy is, but it feels distorted. A little mishap?”

“Should we answer him?” Amaya asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stein says, “There is no possible way he is referring to us!”

Snart tilts his head. “Mick,” he says.

Mick starts.

“You were saying?” Nate mutters.

But then a fucking _dragon_ soars over the ship, a good fifteen feet tall with tusks in its chops and bull horns jutting from its head. Its scales fade erratically between crimson and scarlet, swirling as if the colors are moving. It lands next to Snart, draping an orange webbed wing over him like an oversized umbrella.

“What’s up?” it says. In Mick’s voice.

Vaguely, Mick registers Ray hitting him on the arm and hissing, “Mick! You’re a dragon!”

Snart points at the ship. “Can you see that?”

The dragon blinks. Scratches his neck. “Uh. What am I s’pposed to be seeing?”

Snart’s lip curls in frustration. “I don’t know. But there’s _something_ there.”

His Mick rolls his wing joints—probably the draconic equivalent of a shrug. “If you say so. Want me to set it on fire?”

“If they don’t reveal themselves,” Snart replies pointedly, “I just might.”

“Okay, they’re definitely talking about—Mick?” Nate calls.

Mick hurries to the cargo bay. Gideon opens the door without comment.

“Oh,” dragon him says, “there’s one. Big guy, shaved head. Huh, we got the same eye color.”

“Take a guess why,” Mick says.

Snart’s eyebrows rise. He puts his hand on his dragon’s leg. “That wasn’t you.”

The dragon, slack-jawed, says, “No. No it wasn’t. What the _fuck_?”

“You’re right, Snart,” Mick replies, “We ain’t from around here. Ship got stuck in the wrong universe.”

Snart grins. Even with the blinded coloring, his eyes are expressive as ever. “Really now? I felt the fabric of reality twist, but I thought that was just my sister summoning things again.”

“Lisa’s here?”

“Liselle, actually. Best necromancer in the Forest,” Snart proudly replies, chest puffing the same way it always does when he’s bragging about his sister. “So you’re a Mick from another universe. But your voice is close to the ground, and your energy—” he takes a few slow steps forward, his dragon stiffening the same way Mick does whenever his Len did something potentially stupid. “Are you _human_?”

Mick looks to his counterpart. The dragon sizes him up, but gives a small nod. Mick meets Snart halfway, touching his hand.

Snart gasps quietly. “Oh. Must be a universe _far_ away.”

Mick shakes his head, then winces at Snart’s unseeing gaze. “Ship wasn’t made for universe hoppin’. This is pretty close to mine.” He clears his throat as Snart runs his hands up his chest and neck. “Only I’m uh. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t hatched or nothin’.”

Snart hums. His fingers reach his face, tracing Mick’s features, claws cold on Mick’s skin. The longer he touches, the bigger his smirk gets. “I like what I’m seeing.”

Both Micks snort—and immediately shoot each other wary looks.

Eventually, Snart grips Mick’s chin, ruined irises staring somewhere above his head. His smirk fades, and his brow furrows.

“You’re grieving,” he says. “Someone close to you just died.”

Mick tenses.

“ _Leonard_ ,” dragon him rumbles.

“And you’re isolated,” Snart continues, “You feel—lost, but no one’s helped you. Where am I? I ain’t one of the—” his eyes widen. “Oh.”

When he meets Mick’s eyes, Mick swears Snart sees him.

“ _I’m_ the dead one,” Snart says.

Mick swallows. “How—how the _fuck_ —”

That’s about when the team barges in, and dragon Mick roars ‘em all half-deaf for their weapons.

“Stop crushin’ our ship,” Jax shouts, “and maybe we’ll ease up!”

Was the Wiverider getting hit? Mick really hadn’t noticed.

Snart holds out his hand, and a blue force field arcs around him and both Micks. In the shocked silence, he drawls, “Play nice, kids. We were just gettin’ to know each other. Don’t get too many visitors here.”

“And, um,” Nate says, “where’s here?”

Snart side-steps around Mick. (Mick already misses him—it’s pretty pathetic, if you ask him.) His other hand raises to waist height, ready as his dragon’s talons. “This is the Forest. Whole world’s covered in it, but we’re at the heart of it. Some people just call it the center.”

“Central,” Mick murmurs.

“That’s another popular name. Now you all came out of the—ship, I’m guessing—that this Mick came from, so I got one question for you: why should I hand him back?”

“Because he’s our teammate,” Sara snaps.

Snart’s smirk is sharp. “Try again.”

“He’s our friend,” Ray says.

“Wrong. Though you,” he points in Amaya’s direction, “you I might believe. His energy reacts better to you.”

“Are you saying Mick doesn’t like us?” Jax asks.

“No,” Snart replies, “he likes you fine. That’s the problem. Now you,” he nods to Sara, “are grieving as heavily as he is, so you _might_ get a pass. But the rest of you—how long has it been since I’ve died?” Silence. “Now, given that, have any of you tried to, oh I don’t know, talk to Mick here?”

“I hate feeling talks,” Mick grumbles.

“Doesn’t matter,” Snart says, “Points for effort. Which none of you have earned, but one. What’s your name?”

Amaya gives it.

“Amaya. Nice name. You sound strong, and you have power. I like that.”

“Then let us repair our ship and be on our way,” Amaya replies, “ _With_ Mick.”

“Still lookin’ for that reason. No, Mick,” Snart says, “I wanna hear it from them.”

Mick grimaces. “Too bad, Snart. Either way you slice it, I don’t belong here.”

“Not sayin’ you did. I know a guy who’s in touch with different realities. My sister’s got an in. Can get you home just fine—without these people weighing you down.”

Dragon Mick ends up plucking human Mick and placing him with the team.

“ _Mick_ ,” Snart snaps.

“Oh shut up,” the dragon says, “I wanna go back, I get to go back.”

“He’s—”

“You’re _dead_. Of course he’s messed up. No amount of friendship speeches is gonna fix that.”

Snart doesn’t look happy with it. But in the end, he lowers his shield and says, “ _Fine_. But whatever it is you’re doin’, you treat him better.” He nose twitches like he wants to scrunch it. “I’ll fix your ship.”

Jax balks. “You what?”

 

Magic, it turns out, can be very useful if it’s on your side. Snart’s able to shape the parts needed, but he says it’s a temporary measure at best. Either way, the Waverider can get home.

Not without Snart putting his hand on Mick’s chest and murmuring, “Take care of yourself, my friend,” before kissing him.

Then he walks back to his dragon as if he hadn’t snatched the ground from under Mick.

Always had a way of doin’ that.

Ray points between Mick and the door. “Did. You just?”

Outside, Snart smirks and tells dragon Mick, “We’ve got a model. Wanna try that shifting spell?”

Dragon Mick grins, all teeth and tusks. “Ready when you are.”

“Snart doesn’t have a _thing_ with a dragon,” Jax says, “right?”

Mick turns on his heel and walks out.

 

**2.**

The Waverider doesn’t crash, but the team does. Time pirate got some universe-hopping tech and sucked Mick, Stein, Ray, and Sara into it.

Rubbing his head, Mick opens his eyes to a furry cat staring at him.

An empty R2-D2 mug drops next to it.

Mick looks up. Snart’s wearing foundation and eyeliner, along with skinny jeans, combat boots, and a dark blue t-shirt that read in white font, [May have been on the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one](https://images.sunfrogshirts.com/2016/06/28/m_Best-T-Shirts-Transfer-Paper--FIREFLY--Sunfrog-Red-_w91_-front.jpg) and a familiar ship soaring next to the text. His fingerless black gloves clench around air, as if still trying to hold the mug.

“Mick,” Snart calls, “you might wanna get in here!”

Mick notices he has really sharp canines.

His own voice grumbles, “I’m tryin’ to sketch, what—the fuck.”

This Mick is human, at least, with facial hair reminiscent of 2014 Mick. He’s got sweats stained with what looks like paint, as well as an equally stained gray tank top that, funny enough, starts with [Ain’t no party like a George Washington Party.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/d9/f9/b1/d9f9b1c744eafffb778760d917bb2f9b.jpg) Mick doesn’t bother to read the rest.

 _The Munsters_ murmurs on the TV. An easel crowded with supplies and a beautiful rendition of Central City’s skyline is shoved in the corner. There’s a couch, a small table, and a kitchenette. Behind Mick, to the left of the windows, is a tiny hallway leading to the door Other Mick is standing in, presumably a bedroom. It’s so utterly domestic. Mick feels nauseous.

“Sara? Haircut?” Other Mick says, all confusion.

“And Martin,” Snart says.

“Who the fuck’s Martin?”

Snart waves his hand. “Not the issue. Say…” his eyes light up. “Are you from a different universe?”

“Why would they be—” Other Mick sees Mick. “Holy shit.”

“We don’t have time to explain,” Sara says, “We’re after someone. He’s the only one with the tech to get us home.”

Snart smirks, but it’s close to a smile. He’s far more expressive than Mick’s Len. “Does she happen to have a _Matrix_ get up? Got a satchel about this big?”

Ray grins. “Yes! Yes she does!”

Snart looks out the window. “She’s downtown right now. Just headed into Jitters. I can have her here in seconds.”

“How?” Stein demands, “And how do you know where she is?”

“Oh no,” both Micks mutter, because they _know_ that smile on Snart’s face. It’s the slow, Grinch smile that he rarely gets, but always promises something completely over the top, even by his standards.

Other Mick opens the window. Snart promptly turns into a bat and soars out.

“Lemme guess,” Other Mick says dully, “you don’t got vampires where you’re from.”

Sara blinks. Ray chokes.

Stein whispers, “Astonishing.”

Snart reappears, time pirate slumped in his arms. Unlike a speedster, there hadn’t been a rush of air. Not even the slightest noise. But there’s cold, and the faint smell of must, like a tomb. Mick swallows.

Snart goes to the bedroom to retrieve cuffs—smirking at Ray’s face as he goes—and binds the pirate to the radiator.

Other Mick sighs and scoops up the cat and mug. “Coffee, anyone?”

“We need to get back to our world,” Sara says.

“Come now,” Snart says, “it’s not every day we get visitors from _other universes_. Sit for a spell.”

Other Mick huffs in a way that alerts Mick a pun was just made. So magic exists here too.

“As intriguing as the conversation may be,” Stein replies, “we really must be going. But you have our gratitude for your assistance.”

“High-brow as ever,” Snart says, “but you can’t fool me. I knew you in high school.”

Stein splutters. The other three, however, get devious looks on their faces.

Sara leans closer. “Did you now?”

“What was he like?” Ray asks.

Snart gestures to the table. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll tell you all about it?”

Mick raises his eyebrow at his other self. Other Mick shrugs, and yeah, he’s right. It’s Snart. What can you do?

Pushing aside the ache in him, Mick says, “Start with the basics?”

And Snart looks at him in a way that, while still more open than the other, Mick’s seen for years. It’s the look that Snart gives him when their partnership runs smoothly, when they’re settled in each other’s space and they’re doing it _right_.

“Yes,” he says, “let’s.”

 

Afterwards, Stein regales the rest of the team.

“Mr. Rory actually went to _college_!” he says with no small amount of amazement, “A double major in art and history!”

“What?” Nate says, “No way! We coulda talked shop!”

“And Snart was a _vampire_?” Jax says, grinning, “Dude, that would’ve been awesome to see.”

“He wore makeup so he could see himself in the mirror,” Sara says, “Neat trick.”

“Mr. Rory actually did his Masters thesis on him,” Stein gushes, “Apparently, that Mr. Snart was born a Russian artist all the way back in the 1600’s! Think of it! Mr. Rory with a Masters!”

“I saw the degree,” Ray says, “and I still can’t.”

“And the art he produces,” Stein continues, “Truly a master of his craft.”

“You got a crush on an alternate Mick Rory,” Jax teases.

“I am merely admiring his knowledge and depth,” Stein replies, “I never knew any version of Mr. Rory could have such a mind!”

Off to the side, Amaya asks Mick, “Were they together there too?”

Mick doesn’t answer.

 

**3.**

This time, it’s an alternate Legends team. They look at Mick with every bit of guilt in the universe.

It comes out quick: after Leonard Snart’s death, Mick Rory killed himself. There’d been a wedding ring around his neck. Werewolves mate for life, they said.

Mick’s team hovers for days, but they’re back to their old ways soon enough. For his part, Mick’s just surprised it took ‘em this long to find a universe like this.

 

**3.5.**

Len’s definitely dead. It’s just something he knows in his gut. He knows he’s dead as surely as he knows that that’s not his Mick. At least, not the Mick he knew.

This one has feathered wings of burnt orange and red, tinged with charcoal. Sometimes he tilts his head like a bird, but mostly he has a similar bearing to Len’s Mick. He doesn’t look surprised to see him, though he keeps glancing at his back as if he’s looking for something.

“Hey, Lenny,” he says.

Len stands next to him. A hot wing brushes his shoulders. “Hey, Mick.”

“Big multiverse out there. You got the Dominators where you’re from?”

Len looks inwards, at the sighing well in his chest. He doesn’t know it, but his eyes glow blue as he replies, “Yeah. I was dead by then, though.”

“Finally wandered here, huh?” Here being some Asphodel-like landscape, but with way more mist. “Sometimes it takes a while. Well, where I come from, the Dominators took over our system. Me and my Len, we led a resistance called the Rogues.”

Len smiles. This Mick’s definitely different, but there’s an instinctual comfort standing next to him.

“Rogues, huh?” he says, “Tell me more.”

 

“ _That’s_ Mick?” Jax asks. Like the rest of the team, he’s near choking with laughter.

“Indeed,” Gideion replies, “However, Mr. Rory is able to walk on two legs, rendering our Mr. Rory’s face well-known. Therefore, I would advise against his taking part in reconnaissance for the device.”

The small, pudgy dragon in a white jacket tailored to its body snarls at a contestant for a raw risotto. Chef Rory, apparently. His rhino feet stamp along the counters, little wings buzzing in agitation.

Apparently, a little dragon version of Snart is his mate. Because of course he is.

He wonders if his universe is the only one where both of them are human. Either that or he’s got wings he doesn’t know about.

“Are you _fucking kidding me_?!” Dragon Mick roars at a blue jacket, “Don’t fucking pound the filet! I will fucking ram that shit up your ass!”

“He’s Gordon Ramsay,” Sara cackles, “He is literally a mini Gordon Ramsay!”

Amaya tries covering her mouth, but she soon joins the rest of the team.

“Gideon!” Jax wheezes, “ _Please_ tell me you can make a copy of this episode!”

Gideon, the traitor, replies in an amused tone, “Downloading now, Mr. Jackson.”

 

**4.5.**

“Y’know, there’s a way to look in on your Mick. If you want.”

 

**5.**

When Mick sees yet another Leonard Snart, he knows he can’t take much more of this.

He gets it, universe, alright? He fucking gets it. He and Len are meant to meet, meant to be partners, and he blew it. He fucking blew it.

Amaya frowns sympathetically. She might have an inkling of what he’s going through, what with Rex an’ all. But at least she’s not literally seeing him _everywhere they go_.

Honestly, the Waverider crew’s used to landing in different universes at this point. What Mick can’t get used to is seeing Snart.

“What do you think?” Nate says, “Vampire? Werewolf?”

“Maybe an elf!” Ray says.

“After all the stuff we’ve seen,” Sara says, “I’d say dragon.”

Snart does turn out to have pointy ears and sharper cheekbones. But he’s actually a naiad. Under his clothes are pretty blue scales. He was just visiting his sister across the bridge. She’s in the bay, apparently.

“I’m in Central Park,” he tells them.

And it turns out he’d chosen to stay there, despite being born in the bay. See, there’s a dryad in the park that he’s taken a real shine to. Mick knows who it is even before Snart casts a loving smile at him.

Yeah. Mick’s fucking done.

“I’m sure Mikel can find this thief you’re looking for,” Snart says. His voice is more melodic than nasal. “His kin is in every tree in Central. You can imagine the holiday dinners.”

So. Fucking done.

“So what does this Mick look like?” Ray asks eagerly.

“Similar to yours,” Snart says, lips slightly puckered like a fish, “but he’s more outgoing with his wood.”

Sara snorts.

 

“Are you and Snart like, soulmates or something?” Jax asks.

“There is definitely a pattern,” Stein says.

Mick shrugs a shoulder. “We were a good team.”

“Seems like you’re more than a good team,” Nate says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Like I said,” Mick says tightly, “we _were_.”

He leaves tense silence behind.

 

**+1.**

2046 seems like a wet dream compared to Central’s ruins.

“An alternate 2017,” Gideon reports, “where the Dominators overtook Earth. However, I have detected traces of magic in this universe as well.”

“Might as well look for Snart,” Ray says, “since we _always_ end up finding him.”

Mick clenches his teeth and follows them out.

The streets are cold and silent. No birds, no bugs. Not even, apparently, the Dominators. Definitely no people.

“How are we supposed to get back this time?” Ray whispers.

“Gideon said that if we just find someone running at this universe’s frequency, we can adjust the communicator with Cisco,” Sara replies, “and he’ll Vibe us out.”

“Still a stupid name,” Mick mumbles.

“Mick, not now.”

Mick looks at the rubble. He’s tired.

“Mick?”

No. Please, no.

Mick turns.

There, among the ash and ruin, is a dirt-streaked Leonard Snart in his ruined black leather jacket, looking at Mick Rory like he’s his last hope.

Not again. Mick can’t do this again.

But Len’s already running, and Mick—he can’t not catch him, alright?

Len gasps wetly in his ear. “Mick, oh fuck, you’re fucking alive, oh _fuck_ —”

Mick puts his nose to Len’s shoulder. “’M not him, Snart.”

Len goes very still.

“We’re from a different universe,” Mick continues. The words taste like tar. “Where we beat the aliens. And you—for me, you’re dead.”

Slowly, Len pulls back. His face is shattered, façade completely wrecked. This Len has lost everything.

Mick’s heart pounds. “Where’s Lisa?”

Len crumples. “Is she—is she alive, where you’re from?”

No. No, no, no.

“Yeah, Lenny,” Mick murmurs, “Leadin’ the Rogues, last I heard.”

Len laughs. His eyes are wet. “Yeah? And how’re the Rogues?”

“Alive n’ well.”

Len’s fingers clench and unclench on Mick’s jacket. “And…and you? Where—why are you with these guys?”

“You never met us?” Sara asks.

“I have,” Len says dryly, “The _Legends of Tomorrow_. My Rogues and I managed to get a distress signal to you. You came by, but.” He snorts. “Didn’t do nothin’ for us. Said it was part of the timeline. Some Time Masters you are.”

The team pales.

“We’re _Time Masters_?” Jax whispers.

Len sneers. “Even had the nerve to ask me and my partner if we wanted to join your crew. But since you’re not from around here, I won’t kill yah for it.”

“We killed the Time Masters,” Mick says. “Well. You did. Blew up their Oculus, killed ‘em all in one shot.”

Len smiles with manic glee. “ _Good_.”

“We promise,” Sara says, “we would have helped you. We actually helped stop the Dominators on our Earth. And we aren’t Time Masters.”

Len looks to Mick, relaxing only when Mick nods. “Alright. So I’m guessin’ you gotta get home?” His knuckles are white on Mick’s shoulders.

“Yes,” Stein says, obviously trying not to stare at the contact, “and we would be grateful if you would help us. You see, we are in need of someone who runs on the frequency of this Earth.”

Len finally steps back, hand on his cold gun. “What do you need me to do?”

 

Turns out it’s not just the Rogues who died. Team Flash, Team Arrow, they’re all gone. Dominators went after the big leagues first. Sometimes they brainwashed the supernaturals and metas and made them massacre entire states, then made them look at what they did before executing them.

Len only got away by hiding under Lisa’s corpse.

The team doesn’t ask many questions after that.

 

(“You got them here on purpose.”

“I gave ‘em a nudge, that’s all.”

“ _Lenny_.”

After a pause, Len says, “Dontcha think it’d be better?”

Mick doesn’t answer.)

 

When they’re alone, Len murmurs, “I was on my way to the bridge.”

Mick’s lungs seize.

Len’s eyes are dull. He speaks in monotone. “Had it all figured out. Highest point, best landin’ spot. Was gonna ice my body first, so I’d shatter when I—”

“ _Shut up._ ”

Len swallows. “Everyone’s gone, Mick. Even now, I’m workin’ to send you away.”

“And I’m lettin’ it happen,” Mick spits, “so don’t think you’re the only one who feels like shit.”

It’s definitely not fair, but Mick doesn’t take it back.

Len sidles closer. The press against each other and breathe.

 

(“Do it.”

Len perks up.

Mick looks at him. His eyes sting. “It’s still you n’ me. Do it.”)

 

“Frequency recalibrated,” Gideon chirps, “Sending signal.”

A few seconds later, a portal opens. The Waverider’s alarms blare.

“Gideon!” Sara barks.

“A Dominator vessel has become aware of our presence,” Gideon says.

“We have to go!” Ray shouts.

The team stares at Len.

Len, who’s ashen but resolute. Who looks at Mick with the eyes of a dead man and says, “See yah around, Mick.”

Mick feels cold shove at his insides. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbing Len’s elbow and telling Gideon to punch it.

The team yells at him, but Len’s wide eyes keep him in place.

 

Len stares at Central, tongue flopping uselessly in his mouth.

“I don’t belong here,” he says quietly. His hands are shaking.

Mick texts Lisa. “Not yet.”

Len yanks him into a kiss. It’s softer, sweeter than Mick’s used to, more desperate in a way that Mick figures only the apocalypse can leave behind. But it’s so fucking familiar Mick’s knees knock.

It’s Len. It’s _Len_.

“Well,” Ray says, “at least this one’s human.”

Dragon wings snap from Len’s back.

Ray sighs. “Never mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did indeed make shameless plugs to my If It Ain't Baroque and Ramsay Rory series. Of course the latter was adjusted a bit. I figured, y'know. Why not?


End file.
